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Fauxie
She rubbed her hands over her face again, looked down at the charts, looked back up at the computer. Failure. Subject Deceased. Infusion 30% Complete. She closed down the program, tapped on her iPad. Failure. Subject Deceased. Infusion 30% Complete. Gene Mutation Unsuccessful. Failure. Subject Deceased. Infusion 30% Complete. Gene Mutation Unsuccessful. The red letters stared up at her through the glare of the kitchen lights. Failure. Failure. Failure. She closed the program, rubbed her aching temples, picked up her pen. "subject deceased, mutation unsuccessful. infusion 30%. dna transplant required, contact michaels in a.m. for biochem analysis." She was a failure. Those bright red lights bore into her eyes, were seeping into her skin. The chair scraped across the pavement as she got up in an attempt to clear her head and walked away from those red letters. Failure. Failure. Fuck. Papers fluttered across the floor and she threw her hands up in an upheaval of frustration, bending down to scramble together her collection of works that she had spent her lifetime analyzing, scrutinizing, slaving over. Droplets of sweat were collecting on the scruff of her neck, plastering her hair to her skin. She bunched up her work and shoved it back in her briefcase. Latched the gold clasps. Undid them. Latched them again. Undid them. Latched them again. She could see her figure in the reflection of the cheap metal, a distorted image of a broken figure ripped away from her world. Her eyes deadset again ahead, she walked away, her thumb never leaving those metal clasps. "The mutation was 30% successful, sir. Um, as you can see from page 22 of my report, the subject was deceased, which made the biochemical implant difficult to transfuse from the liquid form into the, uh, gene, sir. If you want to flip the page, I have detailed a, uh, chart showing the next steps needed to take to further our research on augmented implants as they connect to, uh, cross-species genetics. Sir," she added, as she flipped the page with undoubted nerve, the paper rocking and rattling in her grasp. She slammed the page down, willed her hand to remain steady as she read aloud to the man in front of her. "Necessary actions are to find a suitable host and then recalibrate the implants to further develop the augmentation methods we seem to, seem to, seem to..." her voice trailed off as she stepped away from reality and locked into another sphere entirely, her eyes focusing on a room in the distance. "Ma'am. Ma'am! MA'AM!", a voice rumbled, tethering her back down to reality. "Huh? Sorry, sir. Um, where were we? Ah, yes. The augmentation methods we have been working on for so long have-" A voice cut her off, that fraying tone she had continued to carry despite her trembling and splitting reality wearing her figure down with a nervous tremor that rumbled her to the core. "I think we've heard quite enough, Miss-", "My name doesn't matter, sir. Thank you for your time." She fumbled with her papers, redid the gold clasps, and tore away from the office, her dream shattering at the torn boundaries they had been so clearly defined at some time ago. Not paying attention to where she was going, no definite purpose in mind, she came into contact with a wooden surface. Her glasses fogging up with despair, she burst through the surface by means of a brass handle and found herself in a room surrounded by boxes overflowing with metal trinkets. Alone. She was alone. Recollecting her wits, she gazed around the area she had so blindly stumbled towards, her attention almost immediately enraptured by a glowing blue light that cast off the taupe walls and landed at her feet. Puzzled, confused, she stared up at the source of light that had so immediately captivated her attention. It seemed to be a sort of tank, filled with water. Inside it was a metal suit, presumably for combative means, but she couldn't place its purpose. Curious, she put a finger up to the glass surface. Tapped once. Twice. "This would be the perfect host subject for the augmentation," she thought. Immediately, she shook her head, ashamed that such a notion would enter her my mind. She would surely get fired for it. Still, she was a scientist, and her insatiable curiosity did often lead her to remarkable discoveries that she was commended for by the Board. Against her better instinct and more sane half of her figure that kept her tethered to the slab of reality on which she was so firmly stood, she unhinged her keycard and pressed it to the access panel. A whirring sound and an encircling tendril of smoke shrouded her senses, impeding her from any further actions except one of recovery. She took a step back, willing her senses to kick in once more. "Dr. Emily Schmidt of Evokex Industries. Formerly of 122 Bart Street, Lower Manhattan, New York. Parents Ryan and Stacy Schmidt, deceased. Occupations: Biochemical analysts. Place of occupation: Evokex Industries. Branch: Biological Research And Study - Animal Sector D2A. Brother: Anderson Smith. Occupation: Electrical Engineer. Place of Occupation: Westbrook Electrical Industries. Is the information read to you correct?" a mechanical voice whirred off at record speed. She nodded, her vocal chords lodged in her throat from disbelief at the scene of deduction unfolding in front of her. "Voice acquisition not recognized. Is the information read to you correct?" the voice re-iterated. "Yes," she squeaked out. "Awakening host Subject. Cryo-freeze destabilization 30% complete. Life form initialization 24% complete," the voice whirred off. The chamber began to hiss, smoke shrouding her and making her shiver as ice stopped at the placement of her pointed shoes and surrounded her body in its frosty path. She blinked in awe, re-perched her glasses on the tip of her nose. "Life form initialization 72% complete. Life form initialization 100% complete. System scan complete. Vital scan complete. Awakening host subject." A pair of light blue eyes appeared in the thick midst of frosty air, startling her. She took a step back and lost her footing, tumbling to the icy concrete below. A metal hand coiled underneath her frame, bringing her back up to surface. "H-h-h-h-h-hi," she squeaked out, blinking once, twice, three times, re-perching her glasses on the end of her nose. "Hello," a deep metallic voice whirred, its body tilting and bringing her back up to stable ground. "You should watch where you're going. The temperature is unstable here. Very easy for injuries to occur, especially with a level of balance such as your own," the voice whirred, gesturing to the frosty concrete. The scientist nodded. "Uh-huh." The robot started out the door, each step punctuated by the metal hinges that rotated each time his foot came into contact with the ground. The scientist blinked once, twice, three times. Gulped. Checked her hands, ran her thumbs through the creased folds of her skin, a singular question burned into the back of her head. "What was that?" Against her better judgement, she followed the whirring figure out into the hallway. Suddenly, an explosion shook the ground beneath her and she lost her footing, tumbling to the ground. The figure turned, a mechanical hand coiled around her waist. "You should be careful." The blatant statement took her by surprise as she stared up at the helmet painted over in red and black stripes that masked the true identity of the mysterious rogue. "Yeah. Thanks," she muttered as she stepped back onto solid ground. Suddenly, a second explosion rung out, shattering the pavement between them. She collapsed to the floor, her glasses rattling away from her on the concrete. In a blurry stupor, she managed to make out a dark figure bending down towards her, the burnt orange mass of wavy light that surrounded their broken bodies, the sparks that flew from what looked like tubing that swayed back and forth on the ceiling. Sweat beaded the back of her neck. This was the end. This was the end. This was the end. This was the end. A rumble shook the solid ground she lay so helplessly upon, sweat collecting in clusters on the back of her already-damp neck that plastered her hair to her skin. She could make out a covered head in black metal coming closer to her face, a gloved hand sliding underneath her head, a blurry figure coming closer to her face. Closer. Closer. Closer. She could feel a pair of lips on hers and, without the conscious realization of someone who was indeed fully awake, she returned the favor, pressing against the lips on her mouth. Smoke and lust mixed together in a tingling concoction of danger and unclear expectations. Nimble fingers ran through damp hair, arms looped around the back of a sweaty neck, and the smoky aftertaste of a deadly commitment loomed in the musty air above them. Harder, her lips pressed against another thin and feeble pair. Harder, her nimble fingers ran through sweaty strands. Their bodies moved as one, a combined unit of passion and singular thought, a unit incapable of division even in such a deadly circumstance. The taste of smoke still remained on her wavering breath when it all faded to black. She could see nothing, taste nothing, feel nothing but a ripple of quaking uncertainty that rocked her and willed her motionless. A collection of facts rang clear through her disheveled and panicked mind as she exhaled and inhaled in an attempt to will herself back to a rigid reality once again. Her name was Fauxie. She had met a mysterious figure. She had shared in the passion of common interests. Her name was Fauxie and she was very much alive. Her name was Fauxie, and she would fight back the oblivion. Fight back the oblivion. Fight the-- Fight-- And it was then she fell into an interminable slumber. Her name was Fauxie and she was still very much alive. Her name was Fauxie and she had found her purpose in the shattered glass of reality. Her name was Fauxie and she was no longer the broken waste they feared she had become. Her name was Fauxie and she was no longer a failure.